


slowly sinking wasting

by FreshBrains



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Childbirth, Fear, Gen, Isolation, On the Run, Past Sexual Abuse, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pregnancy, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 23:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1620842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah unbuckled her seat belt and looked over at Helena in the passenger seat.  “Helena, you know, if you ever need tampons or pads, just tell me.  I’ll get you some.”</p><p>Helena picked at her fingernails and avoided Sarah’s eyes.  “I don’t need.  I do not bleed anymore.”</p><p>Sarah took a deep breath, then another, and another.  “Since when?”</p><p>Helena looked out the window, blonde curls like a halo around her face.  “Since the bad farm.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	slowly sinking wasting

“These can get you into trouble,” the gas station clerk warned, wagging a playful finger at Sarah.  She knew how horrible she looked, all stringy hair and bloodshot eyes, a red scar behind her ear.  “Gal like you needs to stay safe.”

Sarah nudged the cheap, disposable cell phone further across the counter.  “I’ll be fine.”  The clerk nodded and Sarah knew he wouldn’t believe a word she said.  “Cash or credit?”

Sarah tossed a few crumpled bills onto the counter and took the phone, pulling her hood over her hair as she walked out into the rain.  She climbed into the car, some old battered thing bought used with Cal’s credit card (“The guys at the bank know I like to tinker,” he said, nodding towards his garage.  “They won’t think twice if they found out I bought some old rust bucket.”)

Sarah peered into the back seat and when she was satisfied that the sleeping form was not going to move, she dialed Cal’s number.

“Hello?”  It was a child’s voice, high and sweet, and Sarah’s shoulders sagged, tears prickling her eyes.

“Hi baby, it’s Mommy!  How are you?”

“Mom!”  Kira shuffled a little on the line and Sarah knew she was crawling somewhere warm and safe; she always liked to be alone when she talked to Sarah, even when she was with someone she trusted.  “It’s rainy here, I can’t go outside.  Cal says it’s too cold.”

Sarah smiled.  She never thought Cal Morrison would be a capable parental figure, but after the past few months, nothing could surprise her.  “He’s right.  I don’t want you to get sick.  Where is he?”

“He’s in the kitchen.  We’re eating lunch soon.”  She lowered her voice.  “He’s not a very good cook.”

Sarah laughed, sniffling a little.  “I’m sure you’re used to it with me.  I never understood how Mrs. S did it.”  She heard a murmur from the backseat and swallowed hard.  “Baby, can you tell Cal that I’m alright and I’ll be just fine?  Tell him not to worry about me?”

“Cal worries a lot.  But he plays, too.  He lets me feed the chickens and he’s teaching me how to fix the radio.”  There was another shuffling noise and Sarah heard footsteps.

_“Kira?  Where’d you go, kiddo?”_

“Should I tell him, mommy?”

Sarah shook her head, forgetting Kira couldn’t see her.  “I’ll talk to him soon.  But today, I only want to talk to my monkey.  I miss you so much.”  There were so many things she wanted to ask Kira— _are you warm enough at night?  Do you have your favorite pajamas, your blanket, your winter boots?  Does Cal have books for you?  Is he taking you to school?  Does he talk about me?_ Instead, she just said, “Cal loves you very much, Kira.  Cal is going to take good care of you.”

Kira was quiet for a moment.  “You’re not coming back for a long time, are you?”

Sarah rested her head on the cool glass pane of the car window.  “I’ll call you often.  I _promise_.”  She wiped her eyes with the side of her hand and took a deep breath.  “I’ll stay strong for you, but you have to stay strong for me, okay?”

Kira’s answer came in a whisper.  “I’m strong.  I promise.”

Sarah cried into her sleeve, quiet, so she didn’t wake the person behind her.  “I love you so much, sweetheart.  I love you.  I have to go.  Tell Cal.”

The line went dead, and Sarah slumped over the steering wheel and sobbed.  She jumped when a cool, shaking hand landed on her shoulder, the grip loose and loving.

“Shhh, _sestra_.  Do not cry.  Our angel is safe on the farm.”  Helena rested her chin on Sarah’s shoulder.  Sarah was too weak from crying to shake her off.  “The good farm.  Not the bad one.”

Through her hiccupping sobs, Sarah managed to clear her head for a moment.“Helena…is that where you were?  A bad farm?”

Helena slumped back in her seat, shivering.  They hadn’t had a chance to stop anywhere that sold clothes so she wore a bland off-white camisole and underwear, stained rusty with blood, and Sarah’s heavy winter jacket.  The wedding dress had been burned in a ditch miles back.  “Yes, bad farm.  Man put me in bed, tied me to him.  Bad people, Sarah.”  Helena sighed and that look came to her eyes, the look that said she was tired of being one of the bad ones.  “Can never find Kira.  They can _never_ find her.”

Sarah looked at Helena’s bloodshot eyes in the rearview mirror and began to cry once more.

*

They drove and never once thought about stopping.  There was nothing else to do.  Daniel was dead in Rachel’s swanky apartment, Mrs. S was still unaccounted for, Felix was trying to keep Alison from completely losing it, and no matter how hard she tried to hide it, Sarah knew Cosima was sick.  It was a disaster, everything had gone to shit.  But Helena was starting to talk.

“There was a man,” Helena said from the backseat where she sipped on a cup of super-sweet iced coffee from a fast food joint.  Sarah’s food sat cold and congealed on the passenger seat.  “Took photograph at the bad farm.”

Sarah glanced back before returning her eyes to the road.  “Who was the man, Helena?  What did he look like?”

Helena hummed around her straw.  “Dark.  Sad face.  Badge like Beth.”

Sarah laughed, her chest feeling loose and warm.  “Helena, that was a good man.  His name is Art Bell, he worked with Beth.  He wants to help us.”

Helena shook her head, hair whipping her cheeks.  “No, no help.  _Sestra_ helps me.”

Sarah pulled over on the side of the road next to a copse of trees.  “Helena, do you think we can just drive forever?  We have to go back sometime.  We can’t keep running.”  Sarah knew that wasn’t true.  She’d made a life out of running; she was good at it.  But Kira was old enough to know that once Mom started running, she may never stop.

“This man.  Does he want to hurt us?  Does he want to spread our legs?”

Sarah jerked back to look at Helena, eyes wide.  “For fuck’s sake, Helena, _no_.  Why would you think that?”

Helena smiled, slow and eerie, the smile that still gave Sarah chills.  “You think I not know, Sarah.  You think I not know world.”

Sarah took a deep breath.  She pictured Cal’s hands on her hips, Paul’s lips on her neck, Vick’s eyes raking over her body, and it was easy to imagine those men crawling into her life, but it wasn’t easy to picture them with Helena.  Skinny, wild-eyed Helena who came loping to save Sarah in a bloodied wedding dress.  “Art doesn’t want to do that to you.  Art wouldn’t hurt us.  Understand?”

Helena nodded, returning to her coffee, and Sarah kept driving.

*

Sarah bought her fourth disposable cell phone two months later and realized they weren’t going home anytime soon.  She was starting to learn about Helena, how she worked, how she thought.  Helena was as intelligent as a young teenage girl and just as naive; her English was as good as it would ever be, she possessed great physical strength but was often afraid.  And she was like a boomerang with Sarah—not matter how far she strayed, she would always come back to her sister.

They got a hotel room somewhere north so they could rest for a bit and lose the feeling of wheels beneath them.  Helena left with spare change for the vending machine and Sarah called Kira.

“Mom, Cal says he wants to talk to you before I do.”  Kira handed off the phone before Sarah could protest.  Sarah pressed her fingertips to her temple.

“Sarah?”  Cal sounded a little harried, but not upset.

“Yeah Cal, it’s me.  I’m, uh…I’m in a motel.  Up north.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.  Good.  Don’t say anything else, just in case.”  Unless Sarah was mistaken, he sounded relieved.  “You okay?”

Sarah stretched out on the bed and stifled a yawn.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  I’m with someone.  We need to lie low for a bit.”

Cal cleared his throat.  “A guy?  Who was that one asshole…”

Sarah snorted.  “Vick?  God, I _wish_ he was my biggest problem.  No, I’m with, uh…”

After a pause, Cal said, “One of Kira’s aunties?”

Sarah exhaled.  “She sort of depends on me right now.  Those people who are after me…they’re after her too.  But I think they’ve already hurt her pretty bad.”

“Christ, Sarah.  You’re in pretty deep.  Kira said you would be gone for a long time.”  His voice was low and tired, but as much as Sarah tried to find a hint of resentment, she couldn’t.

“She’s right.  You know, if it gets to be too much, I can call Fee, or maybe one of the girls…”

“No, don’t.  Seriously.  Kira’s safe here with me.  She’s safe with her…”  Sarah could almost hear him choke back the word _father_ , and she closed her eyes.  “I want her here.  I do.”

“I know.  You’re good for her.  She needs you.”  _And Helena needs me._

There was a scuffle on the line and Cal laughed.  “Kira really wants to talk to you.  Promise you’ll update me every week?”

“I promise.”  Sarah felt like she spent a good portion of her life making promises, but just because she wanted to keep them didn’t mean she could.

“Hi mommy, where are you?”

Sarah couldn’t help but smile at Kira’s voice.  She sounded _good_ , all healthy and cheerful, like she was spending time playing outside during the day and sitting in front of a warm fireplace at night.  “Hi baby, I’m at a motel.”

Before Kira could say anything else, the motel door creaked open and Helena peered inside before coming in.  Her thin arms were filled with packs of candy, and when she saw Sarah was on the phone, she ducked into the chair in the corner and began to eat.  With every second bite, she stuffed a little bit into her jacket pocket.

Sarah cleared her throat.  “How are you?  Are you and Cal having fun?”

Kira prattled on about the farm, about the animals and machines and big spring storms, about the big spiders in the barn and the nice neighbors who always told Cal how beautiful his “niece” was.  Sarah listened, patient, closing her eyes here and there to imagine Cal smiling down at Kira, lifting her onto a horse, tucking her in with warm wool blankets at night.

Helena crumpled up the candy wrappers and tossed them into the trash.  Kira paused.  “Who are you with?”

Sarah licked her lips, glancing at Helena.  “Just a friend.  We’re travelling together.”  She couldn’t tell Kira about Helena—not yet, and maybe not ever.  “We keep each other safe.”

“Like guardian angels,” Kira said.  Sarah should’ve known—Kira was always too smart for her own good.  “Is Auntie Helena with you?”

Sarah was quiet for a moment.  She loved that Alison and Cosima were there for Kira—Alison was a mother and Cosima had the energy of a toddler sometimes; they doted on Kira like she was their daughter as well.  But Helena wasn’t like them.  She was a ticking time bomb, and if she exploded around Kira, Sarah couldn’t handle it.

“Yes, love, she’s with me.”

Kira hummed a little, like she’d just cracked a case.  “Me and Cal worry all the time.  We miss you.  Now I still miss you, but I’m not so worried, because Helena will take care of you.”

Helena sat on the bed next to Sarah, keeping six inches between them.  She leaned in and said in Sarah’s ear, breath smelling like chocolate and peanut butter, “Tell my niece _ya tebe lyublyu_.”

Sarah didn’t have to ask what it meant.  “Auntie Helena says she loves you, monkey.”

“I love you too, Auntie Helena.  I love you, Mommy.”  Kira hung up the phone, and Sarah scooted closer to Helena on the bed.  Neither of them said a word and the room hummed with the sound of the freezing cold air conditioning unit beneath the window.

“I do love her,” Helena murmured.  “Would die for her.”

Sarah nodded and let her dark hair fall in a curtain over her face.  “I know.”

*

They travelled north for a few hundred more miles.  Sarah stopped at a gas station on the side of a highway and bought two packs of jerky, two bottles of water, and a box of tampons.  It was the second time she’d had to buy them.  She rinsed her rust-stained underwear in the bathroom sink and wrapped them in a wad of toilet paper to dry.  She was used to improvising like that, throwing caution to the wind.  It didn’t bother her anymore.

Helena was still quiet, contemplative, and, at times, surly.  She acted violently when she was tired or hungry, but never towards Sarah (though the car door, motel toilet, and stereo took a beating).  When Sarah returned to the car, her underwear in her bag, she tossed Helena a bag of jerky.  “Eat up, we’re not stopping until supper.”

Helena greedily opened the bag, but once the smell hit her, she chucked it out the window with a gag.  “Disgusting, cannot eat.  Smells like _hivno_.”

Sarah rolled her eyes.  “Fine then, you don’t eat.”  Even without Kira, she felt like a mother.

Sarah drove another few miles.  It was raining, damp and grey and putting both of them in a bad mood, and the lack of destination only furthered their ire.  Sarah took a bite of her jerky and all of a sudden a wash of cold shot down her back, and she pulled the car over.

She unbuckled her seat belt and looked over at Helena in the passenger seat.  “Helena, you know, if you ever need tampons or pads, just tell me.  I’ll get you some.”

Helena picked at her fingernails and avoided Sarah’s eyes.  “I don’t need.  I do not bleed anymore.”

Sarah took a deep breath, then another, and another.  “Since when?”

Helena looked out the window, blonde curls like a halo around her face.  “Since the bad farm.”

*

“Cosima.  It’s Sarah.”

There’s the telltale click of a lamp being turned on and a pair of glasses being slid into place.  “Holy _shit_ , seriously?  Do I have to do the rhyme thing?”

“No, shut up, brat.  It’s me, for real.  I’m somewhere north.  Been there for a month now.”  Somewhere was a shitty cabin resort/motel thing that was dirt cheap and pretty much empty for the season.  “Is Delphine with you?”

“Yeah, she’s right here.  Sarah, god, are you okay?  What the fuck have you been doing?”

Sarah ran a hand through her hair and peered into the motel room window.  Helena was sleeping on one of the beds, curled into a ball like a child.  “Helena’s alive.  I’m with her.”

The silence seemed to stretch on forever.  “Art told us he saw her, but I couldn’t believe it.”  Cosima coughed, pulling the phone away for a moment before returning.  “Sarah, what’s going on?”

Sarah told her everything—Kira and Cal, the truth about Daniel, vague details about their route to the north.  Helena and the dirty wedding dress.  DYAD cronies probably tracking her every move.  “There’s one more thing.”

Cosima sucked in a wheezing breath and Sarah heard a _Cosima, ma Cherie, are you alright_ in the background.  “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”  Sarah peered in the window again.  Helena shuffled in her sleep and slid her fingers into her mouth like she was nursing.  “The Proletheans did something to Helena.  I don’t know if it was some fucked-up arranged marriage, or a science experiment, or what.  But…”

“Oh god,” Cosima said, voice laced with dread.  “They figured it out.”

“Identical twins,” Sarah said.  “If I could have a kid, why couldn’t Helena?”

More silence.  It was the longest Cosima had ever been quiet.  “This is way behind your call of duty, Sarah.  Helena tried to _kill_ you, she killed so many of us already.  This is a problem, obvs, but it’s not _your_ problem.”

Sarah clenched her jaw.  Cosima was right, but Sarah knew there was nothing she could do.  “Cosima, I need to talk to Delphine.”

*

Delphine bought plane tickets the next day, scheduled for a month before Helena’s supposed due date.

“I’m taking a huge risk here, Sarah.  I work for the people who want you here.  If they find out where I’m going, we’re both going down.”  Delphine sounded tired.  Everyone sounded tired lately.  “And I’m sure you know that Cosima is sick, and probably getting sicker.  She cannot come.”  Delphine told Sarah the risk was to her career, but Sarah knew she was asking the world of Delphine to leave Cosima for a month in her state.  If something happened to Cosima while Delphine was gone, Sarah would never forgive herself.

“I know,” Sarah said.  “Felix and Alison will take care of her.”

Delphine cleared her throat, slipping into Dr. Cormier mode.  “First of all, you need to get Helena to a clinic.  You’re smart enough to figure out how to keep it discrete.  Figure out the basics and go back once every two months minimum.”

Sarah sighed.  “I’ve had a kid, you know.  I know how this works.”

“No,” Delphine said shortly.  “You know how it works to have a child as a woman.  You do not know how it works to have a child as a patented human cloning experiment.”  As much as her words bit, Sarah knew Delphine was right.  “Call me once a week.  Buy a new cell phone.”  She hung up.

*

Sarah found a free clinic a few miles west of the resort in a tiny, one-bar lakeside town.  It was the sort of place that needed a free clinic—big families with single mothers, low employment, cold year round.  They lucked out.

A woman left the clinic from the back door.  She was short and plump with dark skin, curly reddish-brown hair, and bright pink scrubs and sneakers.  She shrugged into her coat and dug into the pocket for her keys.

Walking to the back entrance, Sarah made a fast decision and hated herself for it.

*

The woman woke, squinting in the late afternoon sun peeking out from over the pine trees.  Blood ran down her mouth from her nose, but otherwise, she was unharmed.  Her pink scrubs were smeared with dirt and grass stains.  She’d put up a fight.  “W-where am I?  Who are you?”

Sarah knelt down on the forest floor, pine needles digging into her knees.  “My name is Sarah.  I’m not going to hurt you.  You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

The woman scrambled onto her knees, yanking at the ties that held her hands behind her back.  “Why did you take me here?  What’s going on?”

“If I untie you, will you run?”  Sarah held out her hands.  “I don’t have any weapons, but I’ll probably try to chase you down.”

The woman swallowed thickly, rubbing her bloody face against her shoulder.  “Tell me why I’m here first.”

Sarah nodded and sat cross-legged on the ground.  “My sister is pregnant and we’re on the run.  We need medical care.”

The woman’s mouth opened.  “Are you kidding me?  You kidnapped me for treatment?”  She relaxed a little in the dirt.  “I’m not trained to perform abortions.  I can recommend you to another clinic, though.”

Sarah shook her head.  She’d already brought that up with Helena, but Helena didn’t seem to understand, or she didn’t want to.  “My sister is special.  Her body is different.  People want to examine her and hurt her.  We need discrete medical care for the next five months.”

The woman took a deep, shaky breath.  “What happens if I report you?”

Sarah shrugged.  “Then they take my sister and I’ll probably never see her again.”  Sarah realized then how accustomed she’d become to Helena’s quiet, brooding company, and how much she needed to keep her safe.

The woman nodded, and Sarah wondered if she was a mother.  “I’ll treat your sister.  Come to the clinic tomorrow and ask for Bren.  They’re used to strange requests.”  She tugged at her ties again.  “Can you let me go now?”

Sarah untied her leather belt from the woman’s wrists and helped her up.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t afford to take chances.”

Bren shook the dirt from her hands and scrubs.  “You’re sure in a mess of trouble, aren’t you?”

Sarah took off into the woods.  “Keep going east and you’ll empty out into the clinic parking lot.”

*

Helena was well into her second trimester when she sat upright on the hotel bed and pressed her palms to her stomach.  “ _Sestra_ ,” she said, voice hoarse, and Sarah shot up out of sleep from the other bed.

“What, what is it?”  She was already holding her cell phone, ready to call Delphine.

Helena’s mouth was slack, open in awe.  “ _Sestra_ ,” she said again.  “My baby.  My baby says hello.”  She lifted up her tank top to bare the taut flesh of her stomach.  She cupped her hands around the bump.  She reached out with her other hand, fingers spread and trembling, and Sarah eased out from under the itchy blankets and sat at the edge of Helena’s mattress.  “Feel.”

Sarah pressed her palm against Helena’s warm skin and felt the familiar jump of a squirming being beneath the layers of muscle and tissue.  Sarah closed her eyes and felt, just _felt_ , remembered how she was alone and on the run when she was pregnant with Kira, how Felix had to bring her food and money, how Mrs. S threatened to call child services unless she went home to have Kira.

She remembered sitting in the backseat of a stolen Chevy under an abandoned overpass, listening to the rain pound against the windows and sobbing, sobbing, sobbing—wishing she didn’t con Cal, wishing she had a husband who could rub her back, wishing she had _someone_ to hold her and tell her everything would be okay.

Sarah pulled her hand away from Helena’s stomach, and after a moment’s pause, reached for Helena’s free hand, tangling their fingers together.  Helena jumped a little, more surprised than startled, and looked at Sarah with wide, curious eyes.  “Helena,” Sarah said, hushed and low.  “Helena, I want you to know right now that you have me.  I’m here.  For you and the baby.  I won’t leave.”

Helena bit her lip, palm still cupped over her stomach.  “Promise, promise.”

“No promises,” Sarah said, eyes steel.  “I don’t need to promise you anything because I don’t _owe_ you anything.  But I’m not letting you have this kid alone.  I wouldn’t do that to…” _To my sister, to my clone, to my body._ “To you.  I’m here.”

Helena closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wooden headboard.  It looked like she was being warmed by an invisible sun, like she was basking in the light of something Sarah couldn’t see.  A tear slid down her cheek.  “She needs you, Sarah.  My baby girl needs her _titka_.”

Sarah slumped back into bed, turning the lamp on.  “You don’t know if it’s a girl, Helena.”

“I know,” Helena said, like she had not a worry in the world.  “My little angel.  My Anna.”

*

“Would you like to know the sex of the child?”  Bren moved the ultrasound wand over Helena’s sticky stomach.  Her hands shook a little and she avoided Sarah’s gaze.

“It’s a girl baby,” Helena said, peering at the ultrasound screen. 

Sarah looked up from her spot in the chair across the room and saw the familiar grey mass on the screen.  She had the urge to distance herself, say that it’s just a blob, a mass of science, but she knew too well that blobs like that turned into Kiras and Gemmas and Oscars. 

Bren smiled despite her fear.  “You’re right.  You’re having a girl.”

Sarah bit her lip, trying not to cry.  _She’s going to look like Kira.  She’s going to look like_ us.

“Did you hear, _sestra_?”  Helena looked over at Sarah, face stretched in a serene smile.  “My Anna.”

Sarah nodded.  “I heard.  Your Anna.”

*

At the start of Helena’s third trimester, Sarah called Cal and told him she’d be back in a couple of months.  He didn’t ask any questions, save for one.  “Are you…you’re not…again?”  His voice was hoarse, shaking.

For the first time in what felt like months, Sarah laughed.  “Might as well be.  But no.  Not me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I haven’t got a bloody clue.  Do you want to raise a kid?”  Sarah didn’t mean to snap, she didn’t mean to sound like a patronizing bitch, but it was all hitting her too hard—Helena could give birth, sustain life inside her, but she could not be a mother.  It took a long time for Sarah to be a mother and she was a developed adult when she had Kira; she wasn’t a trained assassin.  “Want to start from scratch, Cal?”

Cal was quiet for a second.  “If it means getting you back here with Kira and me, then be my guest.  Bring the kid.  Bring all of Kira’s aunties.  Bring your foster mom and brother.”  His voice betrayed nothing.  “I don’t really give a shit what you show up with.  At this point, I just want to know the truth.”  He hung up.

*

Delphine arrived to the doorstep of the motel eight days before Helena’s due date.  Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, she wore leggings and soft boots, and deep bags lined her eyes.  She stepped into the room and didn’t spare a glance at Helena, who slept on her side on the bed, belly protruding beneath the sheets.  “Any signs yet?”

“Nothing,” Sarah answered, glad Delphine skipped pleasantries.  “Easy as hell, actually.  Same as mine was.”

Delphine nodded and began setting things up around the room—small monitors, screen, electrical outlets.  Plastic bags of unopened instruments.  “Cosima is getting sicker.  I just thought you should know.  I don’t know if she’ll last until autumn.”

“Then why are you here?”  Sara felt her heart ache.

Delphine looked up at her.  “Cosima said I needed to.  She said I owed her that much.”

*

“I don’t know what to do,” Sarah whispered, hands out over Helena’s writhing body.  “Helena, I don’t know what to do, _oh god_.”

“The baby,” Helena kept saying through her teeth, hands fisted in the loose jumper she’d been wearing since the start of her third trimester.  “The baby is coming.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Sarah said, panting like she’d run a marathon.  The motel room was too dark, the maroon polyester comforter was too rough, the walls and carpet and stale air were too unclean.  There was a puddle on the bathroom floor where Helena’s water broke hours earlier but all of the cheap motel towels were spread beneath Helena’s body on the bed.

“Delphine is coming with the nurse,” Sarah said, gathering their things—shirts, wallets, Helena’s scraps of lacy nursery decorations—and stuffing them haphazardly in their duffle bags.  “I’m not a bloody doctor, I can’t help you have this baby.”  She checked her cell and swore.  “Where the hell are they?”  She was prepared to slide Helena into the backseat of the car and hightail it to an emergency room if they didn’t arrive soon, throwing out the entire plan.

“The baby come _now_ ,” Helena yelled, voice low and growling like an animal.  She began to speak quick Ukrainian and Sarah couldn’t tell if she was praying or swearing.

*

Delphine pulled a gauze mask over her mouth and signaled for Bren to stand next to her.  “I’m going to deliver, you assist.  She’s almost ready.” 

Sarah had no idea Delphine was trained to do this—she always thought Delphine was one of those fancy degree doctors rather than the scrubs-and-scalpel type.  She only called Delphine in the need for secrecy.  But she supposed they had to train their monitors for anything.

“ _Sestra_ ,” Helena moaned, reaching out with pale, sweating hands.  “Where are you?”

Sarah knelt by the bed and took Helena’s hand.  “I’m right here.  I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”  More promises, always promises.

Delphine slid her hand between Helena’s legs, eyes set in concentration.  “Okay, Helena, you’re ready.  We’re going to have a baby.”

Helena cried out, broken and loud like a wounded animal.  “Baby not supposed to hurt.”  She was babbling in broken in English, panicked, and Sarah squeezed her hand.

Delphine glanced at Bren, as if for assurance.  “Helena, can you push for me?”

Sarah’s blood pounded in her ears, she remembered the harried doctor at the big city hospital asking her the same thing, the nurses giving her judgmental glares.  She squeezed Helena’s hand.

Helena whipped her head back and forth on the motel pillows, frazzled curls sticking to her temples.  “No, no, please…I can’t, hurt too much…no more.”  Her veins were filled with whatever syrupy drug Delphine pumped into her to keep her stable and quiet; Sarah guessed it was stronger than normal.  But Helena still clenched her yellow teeth in pain.

_This is a woman who carved angel wings on her back.  I shot her in the chest.  Please, let the bloody baby come fast._

“Helena,” Sarah said, leaning in close to her face so her nose nudged against Helena’s sticky cheek.  “Helena, listen to me.  Remember that day when we ate at the nice restaurant?”

Helena muffled a groan, squeezing Helena’s hand tighter.  “Yes, I remember.”

“That’s good,” Sarah said, grimacing out a smile.  “I have a secret to tell you about that day, do you want to hear it?”  Sarah remembered little about that day in the sloppy corner café besides sugar spilled on the table, the smell of grease, and Helena’s foot jammed against her pelvis, but she did remember one thing.  One thing she promised to keep to herself.

Helena closed her eyes, toes curling against the towels.  “Yes, tell.”

Sarah nodded, glancing up at Delphine.  Her and Bren’s mouths were covered in gauze masks, but Sarah could see anxiety in Delphine’s eyes.  “Okay, I’ll tell you, but first, I need you to squeeze my hand and push.  Push so hard, okay, and I’ll tell you.”

Helena groaned again, tears rolling out the corners of her eyes.

“Shite, _shite_ ,” Sarah swore, jamming her forehead against the bed-sheets for a moment before looking up again.  “Helena, I want to tell you.  You’ll like it, I promise.  But you have to _push_.”

Helena nodded, chin bobbing against her chest.  “Okay.  Yes, I push.  Now?”

Sarah looked up at Delphine again, who nodded.  “Yes, Helena, push _now_.”

When Helena scrunched up her face and pushed, Sarah pressed her face to Helena’s shaking arm, breathing in the sweet-sour-milk scent of her skin, whispering _please please please_ over and over again.  Helena wailed, low and mournful, and the sound bounced off the walls.  Bren flinched.

But Delphine’s eyes crinkled behind her mask.  “Yes, Helena, that’s wonderful.  One more, one more push.”

“ _No_ ,” Helena cursed, digging her fingernails into Sarah’s palm.  “Secret first.”

“Push, please god, Helena, _push_ ,” Sarah said, and realized she was crying, tears soaking the towels beneath Helena’s arm.  “Push, please, and I’ll tell you.”

_Please, god, please, ten fingers and ten toes, please, let Helena believe in something, oh god…_

Sarah cried and cried, and then Delphine gasped, Bren whimpered, and the shrill sound of crying filled the dim motel room.

“It’s a girl,” Delphine said, voice hushed.  “A perfect baby girl.”

“Anna,” Helena croaked, weak and limp on the bed, but Sarah could only see a little blood on the towels, and she remembered that from her own delivery.  “Give me my Anna.”

Sarah sat on the bed next to Helena and framed her sweating face in her hands, stroked her hair with shaking fingers.  “They have to clean her first.  Then you’ll see her.”  Helena’s eyes began to shut as Bren busied herself cleaning Helena up, her mouth set into a grim line.  “Hey now, I still have a secret to tell you, remember?”

The baby squalled from where Delphine was cleaning her on the other bed, everything wrapped in fluffy gauze and doused in antiseptic. 

Helena nodded, face still drooping.

Sarah leaned down so her hair brushed Helena’s own, strands tangling together.  “When we were in that diner, and we were sitting in that booth, people looked at us.  But they didn’t think we were weird, or bad, or wrong.  They didn’t look at us and see sin.  Do you know what they saw?”

Helena murmured, shaking her head. 

Sarah licked her lips and leaned down further, pressed her forehead to Helena’s.  “They saw sisters, Helena.  And it felt nice.”

*

At six pounds four ounces, Anna was born without a birth certificate or a last name, mostly because Helena didn’t have a birth certificate or a last name.  She was born into nothing and everything at the same time, a black hole and a storm, and Sarah instantly fell in love with her.

“She looks like my Kira,” she said, cradling Anna in her arms in the stiff motel chair.  Anna was the same size as Kira was when she was born and had the same pale feathers of hair, the same round face and small lips.  Sarah traced her finger around Anna’s cheek.  “It’s amazing, she looks _exactly_ like her.”

Bren packed up her bag full of drugs and instruments, things she pilfered from the clinic, everything sterilized over and over again in the bathtub.  She’d end up throwing them away, anyways, but couldn’t in the motel trash.  “She’s one of the easiest deliveries I’ve seen.  Perfectly healthy, too.”  Helena slept on the clean bed.  Delphine left only moments after Anna was born, leaving only a squeeze on Sarah’s left shoulder and her private cell number.  But Bren was hesitant.  “Miss, does this child have a home to go to?  You can’t raise a baby in a motel room.”

Sarah looked down at Anna, then at Helena.  “She’ll have a home.  I promise.”

Bren sighed and unlocked the motel room door.  “God help you all.”

*

They drove again, only a week after Anna was born.  Anna, a perfect little dumpling of a child, all rosy cheeks and soft hair, hardly left Helena’s arms until they hit the road with seven packs of pampers, cans of powdered formula, and whatever else Bren could get for them.  Bren left with a curt goodbye and no offer for extra help, which Sarah appreciated for no apparent reason.

“Where we going?” Helena asked, holding Anna to her chest.  She could do the things mothers did with their bodies—keep Anna warm, breastfeed her, sooth her crying with soft Ukrainian singing.  Sarah did the things mothers had to learn—swaddling, preparing formula, burping.  Sarah knew it wouldn’t be that way forever.  They only had that one week in the milk-scented motel room with Anna, just the two of them taking care of her, but it was enough for both of them.

Sarah started the car and glanced back, making sure Anna was snug in the car carrier Bren gave them.  Anna slept, head cradled in Helena’s hand.  Sarah looked out into the sun and thought of a farm, small animals, warm beds and strong hands, Kira’s smile, the prickle of Cal’s beard.  She thought of dark starry skies and heavy winter snowdrifts, static on the radio, bad cell service, rocky trails, of nothing, nothing, _nothing_ for a hundred miles.  Of two sisters, only two, side by side with a baby between them.

“We’re going home,” Sarah said, and drove.

**Author's Note:**

> A few extra warnings: Childbirth is described towards the end, but not graphically. There is some pain description involving the process. There is no character death, though Cosima's illness is discussed. There are also major consent issues involved in the pregnancy that are known in canon.
> 
> It is also apparent in canon that rather than Helena being pregnant, they have harvested her eggs--so canon divergence as well.


End file.
